The God Warriors

by Sean Liebling

  "Do not worry about the Thana, General. It was to be expected. An object lesson given with the help of Logi will change their minds, I'm sure."

  "Dark Excellency, you've spoken with the God of Fire?" Moff blurted out, shocked. As a god of Chaos, Logi was unpredictable at best. Legend had it that when the Goddess Hera and others declared human sacrifice to be over within her realms, Logi had done what an unpredictable god does with his power. Volcanoes exploded all over the land, causing a massive wave of death, stopped only by the intervention of the other gods. At least, that was how legend had it.

  "General, I have spoken with every god. Some are just nicer than others. You might say the gods of Chaos are on our side, but many require a sacrifice. This has to be done carefully so as not to involve the gods of Order. Enough on the Thana. Let's discuss the Wolven.”

  "Yes, Dark Excellency?"

  "Have our riders scour the mountains. Use nets and capture them. Then burn the forests to the ground if you have to, but I want their packs in our numbers. Now, be gone. I have preparations to make. I'll need one thousand of our captive slaves brought to the cattle pens outside the city. They will not be returned." The Dark Excellency then stood silent until Moff crept out of the room and almost ran back to his quarters to get started.

  Chapter 7

  ~Elsa~

  Elsa jerked her horse to the left, drawing her sword as a hissing came from directly ahead. She knew the sound of the rock cobra, a nasty and highly poisonous snake. It could grow up to ten feet long and usually launched itself in a strike by the time the hiss could be heard. Sure enough, an elongated shaft of reptilian flesh traveled towards her face from a rocky outcrop. The snake moved incredibly fast, but not fast enough as her sword arced in a full side circle, cutting the head off a foot into the body's length. Then rolling backward over the horse's rump and saddlebags, she watched the snake’s head narrowly missed her, fangs still extended. Many guards had died from the bite of only the detached head. The fangs possessed a reflexive action powerful enough to puncture flesh and inject venom.

  The body missed and ended across her thighs and the horse's withers, still twitching in the throes of death. Releasing the reins before her horse panicked, she grabbed the body, throwing it to the soldier that rode six feet to her left.

  "Hold it to the side until it quits twitching then tie it to your saddlebags. That's tonight's dinner for me." Rock cobra was considered a delicacy when the skin was stripped and the carcass slowly roasted over a fire.

  "You sharing, Captain?" he called back.

  "I'll take a foot or so, and you guys can have the rest. It'll be first come first served," she answered. At close to ten feet, it was a large snake but still not large enough to feed more than a handful of her company, but combined with the two deer, they had spotted earlier and brought down with bows, there should be enough for everyone to have fresh meat at dinner tonight. As was usually the case while on patrol, it was common to kill game to supplement rations. Without the added protein, a four-week patrol could see a person lose ten pounds in body weight.

  So far, their patrol had been uneventful. They had spent the last week and a half traveling from the capital and inspected the first of two passes. The second pass they would see tomorrow a little before midday. An inspection involved traveling within the pass a few miles then looping around, looking for signs of large bands traveling or recent campfires. If they found any, they would have to investigate further. Spotting no intrusions, they would make Fort Brandor by mid-afternoon the following day.

  To call the cuts between mountains “a pass” was perhaps inaccurate, seeing that each was between five and six miles wide, a valley separating two mountain ranges. It was quite easy for small groups to ride past, going in opposite directions and not see signs of the other. The patrols out of Fort Brandor would have extensively patrolled the pass with their greater numbers, usually going all the way up to the edge of Illian territory. However, that was not Elsa's job nor that of Wolf Company. They were just a covering force with no supply wagons along for an extensive mission.

  They had made good time by not stopping at one of the many villages along the road other than to greet them politely as they rode through. Elsa knew that in the past, some captains took advantage of town amenities, causing patrols to exceed the allotted time. This had resulted in demotions, if not outright dismissal. According to the guard commander, the only excuse for tardiness was a battle in protection of a village of Jordache or an incursion of enemies across the border.

  As her eyes continued to scan the rocky outcropping for more signs of rock cobras, or intruders of the two-legged variety, the road before them started to widen and the heavy forest to their left begin to recede. It was then that she caught the first few whiffs of smoke. Her eyes widened in alarm. They must be close to another village. There were always trading villages near the mountain passes and quite a bit of product changed hands between Jordache and Illian this way. The policy of Jordache was simple: come in peace, leave in peace; come in attacking, leave headless.

  Now Elsa grew concerned, and raising her right arm high overhead, she signaled the company forward at a canter instead of the normal ground-beating fast walk. She unlimbered her shield in case of trouble. Looking to the left and behind, she nodded in approval, noticing the others doing the same. She had a bad feeling as she rode closer to the village, even more so when they rounded the next corner and saw thick columns of smoke rising above the trees slightly to their left. There was finally enough separation between the rocks and trees to see the sky. Now her feeling of dread turned to one of panic. The smoke was coming from the approximate location of the next community.

  "Hee Yah! Forward!" she shouted, kicking her horse into a hard gallop while bending low over the saddle to create a smaller target for any possible bowmen. This time, she spared no backward glance to see if her company was following. She could hear them clearly, even over the thunder of her horse’s hooves. Instead, she scanned the surrounding tree line for possible enemies. That much smoke could only mean one thing: the village was under attack. Breathing a quick prayer to Hera, she could only hope they got there in time.

  She gripped the reins with her left hand, the shield covering that arm as she rounded the final corner before the entrance of what she knew to be a large trading post. Her last visit here had been just over two months ago, and while her company never stayed more than a short time, she knew the trading post had just started, or were about to start a school for their burgeoning child population. "Oh, my Hera," she breathed, seeing the devastation before her. Smoke billowed up everywhere, from at least half of the buildings, which looked to be aflame as she thundered through the main gates, her men and women hard on her heels. Bodies of men, women, and children were lying, scattered around the entrance, all with gaping wounds in their bodies. Then she saw the fighting. Directly ahead, and even at the entrances to some of the homes, vicious combat was taking place. There was no time to draw bows as she realized the townsfolk were outnumbered by what must have been two to one, most villagers fighting with only pitchforks and axes against invaders wielding swords.

  "Charge!" she screamed, drawing her own sword as she bore down on the closest group of obvious Illian mercenaries. The hodgepodge armor with most lacking helms told her where this filth had come from. Bearing down, she saw they heard her approaching and started to turn, but it was too late. Her sword cleaved through the neck of the closest to her right. Her boot kicked one in the face, knocking him down, bloodied. Two down and about a hundred to go. There was no time for further thought. Her body operated on instinct, wading into the mass surging towards her.

  A block with her shield to her left and her sword arced over to cleave the skull in half and thrust forward again to take another in the throat. By now, the rest of her company was riding past, swinging left and right, giving her slight breathing room. All around, shouts and screams of defiance and pain pierced the air as her men and women battled against the fo
e, dropping many. But Elsa could see casualties appearing in her own ranks. A half-sensed movement to her right drew her attention, and she blocked another sword strike with her shield, swinging her sword over just as she felt a bite in her lower thigh. She kicked her horse again bowling over two more of the enemy while her sword never slowed. It swung around behind to take the one who had wounded her through his neck. A spray of arterial blood accompanied the stroke, and again, seeing the fighting had lulled around her, she leaped from her horse, so she could properly fight with sword and shield.

  A quick thrust and another was down, entrails spilling onto the hard packed roadbed. Jumping over the body of a child that could not have been more than five or six, she leaped through the doorway of the nearest hut, detecting screams inside. The naked body of a woman lay on the table, while in the far corner two more children fended off a lone attacker with what looked like a large cast iron pot. The Illian was apparently not yet aware of Elsa's entrance, and she took advantage of this to swing her shield in an up and across motion, hitting the man on the side of his head, knocking him away from the children. As he rebounded off the nearby wall, her sword licked out, knocking his own away before thrusting forward to spear him through the center of his chest, right through his cheap cast iron breastplate.

  She felt the shock all the way to her shoulder but wasted no time raising her left foot to brace the body before yanking her sword out. Mumbled words of thanks came from the two young ones, but she spared them only a moment to tell them to stay inside until it was all over. Running out the door, she tried not to think of the woman inside, obviously their mother. Equally obvious was the fact the poor woman had been viciously raped before being stabbed several times in the chest and belly.

  Anger burned inside her as she cleared the entrance, searching for more enemies, but the surrounding area was vacant of the living. In the distance, she heard more fighting but could also tell the violence was quickly tapering off because her men and women were already doing thorough searches of the surrounding homes and stores,, checking every room, attic, cellar, shed, and barn before declaring the village safe. She had no doubt at least a few Illians would be hiding. It was always their way. Therefore, the guard trusted nothing and searched for everything.

  "Ricon!" she shouted, spotting her second in command walking slowly towards her with a stricken look on his face. Elsa did not have to ask why. She knew it was the meaningless slaughter of children. It always affected him the most. The man had six children of his own and spent all the time he could with them, including bringing them into the garrison to let them hang out with the better-behaved guards to watch them practice.

  "Oh, Captain, I've counted seventeen dead children already. Eighteen," he mumbled as he looked around Elsa, spying the small form on the porch behind her. "May all the gods damn those savages to the netherworld." Grinding his teeth, he turned away from the sight of tiny bodies while blinking tears from his eyes.

  "Ricon, I know how you feel. It hits me hard too, but I have a job for you, an important one, and it needs to be done now." Elsa knew she had to get him away from the bodies, or he would dwell on them. She continued, "How did we lose?"

  "Nine confirmed dead, another twenty-six injured, but only four of those seriously. The rest will make it and could fight if needed, like yourself." He said, pointing at her thigh where a graze, seen through her leather pants, slowly seeped blood.

  "Alright then, leave the injured here but assign two men to care for the more serious. Take half of our remaining total and do a northern sweep. I know we did not get them all. We never do, and since too many of the stores are burning, I know those buildings were looted already. There are almost no younger women among the dead, and you know what that means. So get the company together quick, and catch the bastards before they get too far away."

  "Agreed, Captain. What do you want me to do with the ones who surrendered?"

  "We'll hang them while you're gone. Don't worry about that," Elsa growled, spitting to the side in anger. As Ricon turned away, she reached out to grab his arm, giving him one last command. "Take no chances. Take out as many as you can with your bow first before you close in with a sword. I want no more casualties. Do you understand me!" The last comment was said as a statement. She looked Ricon in the eyes until he nodded agreement. Only then did she let him go, heading to her horse to apply antiseptic cream and bandages to her own slight wound.

  By the end of the day, they had counted forty-two dead children, forty-six dead adult villagers, and a combined total of over seventy wounded from the trading post, many of them seriously. All of the forty-one Illians who had surrendered were hung from trees lining the roads outside the village by nightfall. Ricon had returned shortly after dark with several dozen stolen wagons filled with thieved goods including a long line of women and older female children, eight and up. Elsa was thankful for that because she knew they had been destined as slaves. As they slowly rode into camp, she saw that her men and women had chosen to walk and let the captives ride double or even triple in their place. That's what it's all about, she thought to herself as she walked from the bonfire to greet Ricon.

  "Great job, Ricon. How many casualties? And where did you find the bastards?"

  "Just like you said, Captain. They were north, about ten miles away, and we completely took them by surprise. Only two lightly wounded on our part, and we hung all of those we could catch. I know we missed a few, but those woods are thick."

  "Don't worry about it. They will limp back to Illian and tell their tale of death by Jordache guard! Now sit and eat," she exclaimed, pulling him towards the fire. They talked by moonlight well into the night, while others repaired every wagon available. The trading post was no more. Though the fires had been put out, it probably would not be until fall before the town was back in operation. In the meantime, the people here were refugees, and the decision was made to head south to the last village they had passed. There, they could find shelter until assistance arrived from the capital. As it was, with the fastest pace, these devastated people could make would still turn a one-day horseback journey easily into three days.

  "You sure about that, Captain?”enquired Ricon as they discussed the plans to leave a few hours from then when the sun was high enough in the sky.

  "Yes, encounters like this are planned for. What do you think all those meetings I had to go to once I made captain were for?"

  "I thought The Fort might be quicker ," he replied.

  "Possibly, but it's also possible we'll run into another group of them, and we don't want a fight while traveling with refugees. A great many things could go wrong with that scenario. Besides, The Fort is no place for these people, especially the children. No, we will stick with procedure and take them back to the nearest village. We will leave any of our wounded that cannot make it to the capital there to be cared for."

  Ricon nodded and backed away, lost in his own thoughts, then assisted in getting the caravan ready. It would be a long, slow ride back, and a hungry one. He started passing the word for men and women to scout for any game they could catch.

  ~Sierra, Priestess of Hera~

  Sierra, High Priestess of Hera, turned from watching her acolytes pack her trunk, when Orasif, Princess of Omnis, gained entry into her chambers. Smiling softly at the younger girl, the priestess beckoned her forward to a seat on a nearby divan. Sierra wanted to keep an eye on the packing to ensure the correct folding of her robes, not wanting creases or wrinkles. She remembered one visit to the Sotar where all her spare robes were simply stuffed into chests, and upon arrival in Butte, she was dismayed at the damage some of them had incurred. With her tall frame and lean build, light brown hair, and soft brown eyes, the priestess was the picture of Hera herself and took pains to present the proper image at all times. This meant robes without wrinkles.

  Orasif was the complete opposite. Short, with fiery red hair and green eyes set expressively in a broad face with high cheekbones, she was the picture of health, e
specially with her olive skin tones and heavyset build. The girl is still growing though, thought Sierra as she examined her closely. At only twelve years of age, the princess was four inches taller this year, possibly more. It would be interesting to follow this delightful girl's growth over the coming years to see if she ultimately took after her mother, who was a very large woman, or after her father, who was a tall thin stick of a man. Right now, the exotic looking princess was somewhere between both parents.

  "I'm sorry I have to leave, Orasif, but my goddess has given me a task," the priestess said softly as she reached out to clasp the girl's hands in hers. Both met in the middle and held tightly. Sierra was also the tutor of Orasif, as it had always been in the small country of Omnis. For generations beyond count, the High Priestess of Hera, or one of her acolytes, had tutored the princes and princesses of Omnis as they grew from young children into strong adults. Typically, the High Priestess would put the final addition to a particular subject the royals had almost mastered, just as it was in this case.

  "Oh, I'm going to miss you, Priestess Sierra, so very much." The princess was almost in tears. The two of them had grown very close in the last few months. Instinctively the priestess reached out to fold the girl into a warm hug, as a mother would her own child.

  "Hush now, child. I'll be back before you know it." Sierra smiled tenderly at the girl, and the sniffles began to cease. Slowly, the princess looked into her face and smiled tentatively.

  "Are you sure I can't go with you to Korath?" asked a plaintive voice.

  "I'm quite sure, Orasif. Hera addressed that specifically because the Mother is all-knowing and knew you would ask. She wants you here to study hard on your next subjects, especially math. You're a bit behind on that subject."

  "Oh no! I hate math!" The tears threatened to start again, but Sierra quickly calmed the little girl.